Enough
by Eliza2012
Summary: On the plane back to Mystic Falls, Damon wonders what will ever be enough for Elena.


Enough

_Fuck_.

Damon's nervous and it shows. His voice is a bit breathless, a bit hesitant, maybe even a bit higher than normal. Not the usual cocky self-assured don't-give-a-shit attitude he usually sports to show how little it all matters.

It _matters_.

When it doesn't matter, everything's easier. Hit a bump in the road? _Fuck it._ Your teeth jar, you bite your tongue and taste the coppery blood. Laugh, crack a joke, downplay the pain. Down a fifth of bourbon to wash away the hurt.

Kill someone.

_She_ makes it matter. She of the soulful looks, judging him, measuring him, expecting more of him than he fears he can give. She of the doe eyes that make his insides melt.

Her skin is _so damn soft_.

He touches her hand on a pretext of helping her onto the plane. Afterwards, he rubs his fingers together as if by doing so, he could capture the memory of her softness so that he can call it up anytime he wants like some talisman or solace against the heartbreak he fears is coming.

They sit in first class, her by the window, her face turned away, hiding behind a river of silky hair. He wants to lean over and pull her hair away, kiss her neck and tell her not to be afraid but he can't. He has to let her come to him. She won't believe it otherwise.

_Dammit_.

They need more time alone, not with kid brother in tow, but at least now he's in coach and they're alone again. They need time alone - not with pesky friends poking their noses into things that are none of their business, tsk tsking that she's even considering being with him. He imagines taking her somewhere other than back home – somewhere far away where they can be alone and finally discover just what the fuck is happening between them.

Somewhere warm and bright. Tropical, with clear blue water and endless sand. Somewhere green and vibrant and away from all the death and decay in Mystic Falls. No originals to kill, no Jekyl-Hyde friends to sort out, no hybrids to watch over, no dead-to-the-world brother to rescue from his own demons.

As the plane accelerates down the runway and then lifts off the tarmac, she leans back and closes her eyes, her lips parted.

_God those lips…_

So soft and pink and full.

How many thousand times since he met her has he imagined running his fingers over them, tracing them with his tongue, devouring them? He's made himself dizzy just thinking of kissing her like some love-sick schoolboy with his first crush.

_Fuck_, Elena… What have you_ done _to me?

She sighs and he imagines her lying naked beneath him on white cotton sheets, on some huge bed in a house in Bali with no walls. Just sheer drapes that blow in the breeze, the humid air soft on their skin.

She _wants_ him. He knows that now. Her response to him on the bed, her breathing shallow and fast, her look of complete fear as if she doesn't trust herself with him so close, escaping from him - from the simple touch of his hand.

Her kiss… It was – _perfection_. He couldn't have scripted it better himself.

It was all full on _I need you_, _I want you_. No hesitation, no regrets, just all out passion. Like she finally gave in. Like she couldn't deny it any longer.

He's been waiting now for so long. Patient. Giving her the space she needs to decide. Knowing it won't work any other way.

But, _fuck,_ Elena – what's with the "I don't know…" bullshit?

She _does_ know but she's just so damn afraid she'll love him and that just won't do, will it? He's the bad boy and she wants perfection. She thinks she wants Stefan's deep soulful perfect boyfriend considerate gentlemanly courting act. There _is_ no switch he can turn off and on the way Stefan can. He's never been able to turn his humanity off. He's only hid it behind bravado and in your face bullshit so no one sees the pain.

Well, he's offering flat out passion, love and devotion. Hasn't he fought with himself now for months, trying to be the man she sees in him? Hasn't he ripped himself open, his heart like some raw wound right there for her to take?

What the _fuck_ does she need as proof that he's absolutely head-over-heels in love with her?

For him to _die_ for her?

_Really_, Elena?

Would that _finally_ be enough?

* * *

_If you like my Vampire Diaries stories, you will like my original vampire fiction, coming to in July 2012. _


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